


She Loved Him Most At 3 A.M

by liquidheartbeats



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 06:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidheartbeats/pseuds/liquidheartbeats
Summary: Reuploaded for Greenemerald. I know it's about eight months later, but I finally found a copy of this story.





	She Loved Him Most At 3 A.M

**Author's Note:**

> Reuploaded for Greenemerald. I know it's about eight months later, but I finally found a copy of this story.

She’d love him for a lifetime, for reasons too numerous to count, but she loved him most of all at 3 am, when he’d arrive back home after doing his last full patrol of Central City for the night.

She loved the way the bed would sink slightly when he slipped into his side, usually on top of the covers, so as not to wake her. She needed more sleep than he did. Even though there was no resting without him.

He was always at the forefront of her mind, her heart, her dreams even when she managed to fall asleep. Wondering if he was safe or if he’d ever be free from the demands of the city. Knowing that as long as the speed force coursed through his veins, he wouldn’t be..

She loved the way he’d kiss her gently on the forehead, then turn his back to her, knowing that he wouldn't be able to resist her if he had to watch her sleep, the mounds of her breasts moving up and down as she breathed, her pouty lips parted ever so slightly.

She loved him, even more, when the deeply seeded carnality within him superseded his desire to be the perfect gentlemen. Sometimes, he allowed himself to be selfish with her because only her touch could soothe what ached him – her rest be damned.

“Iris,” he’d say in that sleepish drawl, brought on by exhaustion. “Iris, baby, wake up.”

She’d stir a little, the sound of his voice cutting through the depths of her subconscious. “Hey handsome,” she’d say, eyes finally open, happy to see the man she loved alive, intact, and in bed with her. Yawning, she’d ask, “What time is it, babe?”

She especially loved those nights he’d not have an answer for her. Because if he acknowledged how close it was to her call time, he’d back down, unable to justify taking away from her beauty rest.

Instead, he’d run his hand down her silky smooth legs underneath the cover, and press a hot mouth to the side of her neck, allowing his intent to be known.

She’d moan ever so gently, pretending to be too out of it to oblige his unspoken desires, but loving the fact that he’d finally settled into his role as her husband. Though she loved the soft, thoughtful side of Barry that always put her first, she knew, deep down, part of that stemmed from him being a bit self-conscious, feeling like he wasn’t good enough for her.

Like he constantly had to earn her affection. She loved those moments when all of those adolescent insecurities would fall away, and he’d assert himself, expecting her to satisfy him on a whim.

Wearily, she’d push away the sleepiness and climb onto his body, her beautiful black hair cascading over her face, partially blocking the sheepish smile on it.

She loved the way he’d settle underneath her so that her womanhood was pressed further into his growing erection – a great way to wake her up.

She loved the way his hands would grip her hips, holding her in place, knowing she was still half asleep. And the way he’d gently laugh when she’d yawn again, then apologize for being “exhausted, babe.”

She loved the way her words didn’t phase him, because he was determined to have her, and the hunger in his kiss, no warm up, plunging his tongue into her mouth, just as his hands left her hips to knead her ass.

She loved how much he loved her ass. His hands roamed her entire body, as they kissed, but it was obvious her backside was his favorite resting point.

She loved how he’d groan, eyes pressed right, when she started to grind on him. And when he’d had enough of her teasing, the way the way he’d flip her over onto her back and bite his lip at the sight that lay beneath: her, finally wide awake, hair disheveled, body primed and ready to go for him.

She loved the way he’d waste no time removing her nightie, or her panties because this was not the time for proper lovemaking. That would come when they were both well-rested. This was a means to an end.

He needed her to tame the bulge in between his legs – so that he could finally sleep – but more than that, he needed her to ground him. He needed a vessel in which to pour into all of his frustrations, his fears, his wants, his dreams. His love.

She also loved how reckless 3 am made him when he’d tell her to come to fuck him raw because when you stared into the face of death on a daily basis having a baby with the woman you love sounded like a blessing, not a curse

And she loved how reckless his recklessness made her, because, though she knew they’d both be great parents, they were still newlyweds and had a lifetime to build a family. But she’d say, “I’d love to,” because the glint in his eye that signaled what was to come was worth its weight in gold.

At 4 am, after they’d been going at this for a half hour, she loved the way he encouraged her to keep riding him, though she was nearing her end. She loved the way he’d smack her ass when she’d bury her face into his shoulders, and the depth in his voice when he’d command her to “Look at him.”

She loved how he’d smack it harder when she took her time doing as he’d said, and the satisfaction he’d get from her squealing.

She loved how she didn’t recognize the mild-mannered man she’d grown to love when he’d growl, asking her if she “loved this dick.”

“Yes!” she’d moan, out of her mind, “I love it, I love it, I love it so much,” bouncing on his manhood like her life depended on it. She loved how that answer would never suffice, because she’d left out the reasons why she was in ecstasy, mind gone, her body on fire.

She loved how, before she knew it, with a flash of lighting, their dalliance had moved from the bed, to up against the wall. Loved how suddenly he had her cornered, absolutely nowhere to run. Not that she would run – she was no fool.

“Tell me you love this dick!” He’d tell her again, again, thrusting into her like there was no tomorrow.

“I love this gotdamn dick! It's so big, you're so big!" She’d moan, legs wrapped around his waist, fully at his mercy.

She loved how that wasn’t just lip service, an attempt to stroke his ego because the length and girth of his manhood stretched her out in the best possible way – to depths only exacerbated by this position.

She loved how being The Flash had built up his endurance, how he could fuck her senseless for hours if she could withstand it.

She loved the way his body jerked when he came, and how wonderful it felt when his hot seed poured into her body. And she loved the way the excess ran out, dripping down into the crevices of her ass cheeks, down her legs, and onto the floor.

She loved how, even then, he continued to fuck her, less frantic than before, but just as passionately, making each thrust count as he sang her name like a song. “Iris! Oh Iris,” he moaned, his body settling down from his high,“ Iris.”

She loved how, still inside of her, he gently carried her back to the bed, and laid her onto her back, mouth pressed into hers, as he pulled out of her – needing to wean himself off of physical contact.

And she loved him more than all, when he gazed into her eyes and told him how beautiful she looked, as she laid there, skin slick with sweat, hair stuck to her forehead.


End file.
